Convivencia
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "I feel like one day Lucy and my mom are going to secretly plan our wedding without telling us. They're just gonna… send us an invitation and expect us to show up."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Live Free or Die Hard" or any its characters, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1: **Inspired by a prompt on tumblr about someone planning another character's wedding without their involvement.

**Warnings:** weddings, eloping, drama, romance, established relationship, adult language, domesticity.

**Convivencia**

His good leg vibrated against the bottom of the table. Shaking their beers enough that McClane hooked his up – safe from toppling over. Eventually finding his bad knee and applying a gentle, meaningful pressure. Successfully rescuing him from his head as he looked up, blinking away the floaters.

It was a terrible name for a clump of microscopic fibers. He was surprised some company hadn't trademarked it into something catchy and started a social media campaign to convince people it was actually a sign of cancer or-

"Spit it out, Matt," McClane grouched. Giving him some space as he arrowed over to the couch and settled on the least dumpy end with a sigh. "Before the downstairs neighbors start bitching."

He scrunched his nose, fiddling with the label of his beer. Wondering where the fuck to even start. He supposed he had it coming. He'd been distracted for days and McClane was, well- _McClane._

"Something Lucy said?" the man asked, somehow managing to cut right to the heart of things with his usual superhero-ness. Squinting at him like he could see right through him. "You went to that hippie place downtown last week, right? You've been stewin' since. So- what did she say? Believe me, I've heard it all."

He held back an abortive squeak at being caught.

Because it _was_ something Lucy said.

It was _always_ something Lucy had said or done.

Only this time he was actually a bit..._conflicted_ about it.

He took a deep breath, evilly waiting until McClane was mid-swallow. Lips hollowed around the mouth of his beer before he spilled his guts in a way that was only painful emotionally.

"I feel like one day Lucy and my mom are going to secretly plan our wedding without telling us. They're just gonna… send us an invitation and expect us to show up."

John fucking _choked._

And yes, it was absolutely satisfying.

"We aren't even- whatever it is- _engaged_?" the man spluttered. Wiping his mouth in a way that made the hair on his arms prickle. Eying the thickness of John's fingers and the bumps of the callouses he knew from experience felt like burnt electricity on his skin.

He forced himself back to the matter at hand.

Because John had a point.

They weren't engaged to be _anything_, let alone married.

It had been almost five years, but they weren't in a rush. Forever for them had happened gradually, more or less. Which seemed to be their style. Still- there was something about the meaning behind it that'd been tugging at him ever since lunch with Lucy. Something he figured he'd never go for, and yet-

"You think that's going to stop them?" he answered, shaking his hair out of his face.

John stared at him, grunted, then-

"You want a fucking wedding?"

_Yikes._

That was a red light on so, so, _so_ many levels.

"No," he said firmly. Because he honestly didn't. "Marriage is a scheme, man. It's pure capitalism. You know they up-charge a venue if it's booked for a wedding? Literally all of it is marked up for no reason! The moment 'wedding' is brought up you're being grifted, one hundred percent. It's all but money. The entire culture behind all that wedding crap is geared toward one thing. I mean, things have changed since you and Holly did it, but damn- it's like- honestly terrible for the brides. Between people's expectations and social media, they're basically slapped in the face with the need to throw this 'amazing' wedding that will _absolutely_ put them into debt and-"

He could tell the exact moment John stopped listening. It was all there in the glaze of the eyes, the fond quirk of his lips. Attention shifted. Not paying attention to what he was saying, but _absolutely_ staring at him. Like he liked what he saw there. Even five years on, it was still a bit unbelievable.

So, sure- he didn't want a wedding.

But ever since that lunch with Lucy, he realized he wanted to make things official.

Or something...

"Problem is," he started, shuddering as he remembered the moment Lucy had slapped the magazine down on their table after they'd finished with their appetizer. "I caught Lucy with a marriage catalogue. One of those big, official ones."

John seemed to process this for a long moment before settling on confused interest. Which was honestly a relief considering he could have immediately assumed Lucy wanted to get married and that was a rabbit hole he never wanted to go down with him on. _Ever_.

"So? She's a girl. Maybe one of her friends is getting hitched."

He decided not to touch that particular minefield and instead ploughed on.

"She had the section on gay weddings labelled with a sticky note," he returned dryly. Not mentioning that Lucy had also interrogated him about colors, venues and if she needed to order her dad a new set of dress blues – or did the old ones still fit?

John blinked at him, stunned. Before the feeling matured into something that was almost intimidated. Which was an interesting look for him.

"_Oh_," the man finally responded, more a terrified exhale than anything.

"Yeah," he returned unhelpfully. Enjoying the company in abject-terror land.

John leaned forward from his seat on the couch. Rubbing his hand over his head, which was still as bald as the day he'd met him, as his frown threatened to migrate all the way up. Eventually dragging his hand all the way down his face before looking him in the eye.

"We could skip town for a while… I have a bunch of vacation time the chief has been busting my ass to take."

It took a breathless half-second to read between the lines before-

"Are you- are you asking if I want to elope…with you?"

There was a pause.

"If you want to," John said quietly, completely different from the way he usually said anything. Even the day he'd breathed into his mouth and tried to be noble about it when he'd crowded McClane into a corner and nearly missed his lips when he kissed him for the first time.

His mouth was dry, but the speed he croaked out a shaky "sure," must have broken some sort of record.

* * *

If anyone cared to do the math, it was around two weeks later when Lucy looked up from her essay to see her phone blinking. She popped out an ear-bud as she swiped the screen to read the message. The corners of her lips curling up in a smile as she did.

_Did it work?_

She grinned, typing quickly.

_Like a fucking charm. They'll be back in a week._

It didn't take long for her phone to light up again.

_Finally. I thought it would never happen. Good idea with the magazine!_

She smiled again, sending a thumbs up emoji before setting the phone aside and getting back to her essay. Grin turning evil as she glanced at the wedding magazine on the floor beside her desk with obvious relish. This time eying the new sticky note labeled: _"How to throw the best post-elopement celebration!"_

If they thought they were getting out of this that easy, well, she wasn't a McClane.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. This story is now complete.

**Reference: **

\- Convivencia: "living together"; unity, oneness, co-existence and harmony with one another, to exist and live peacefully together.


End file.
